


Carless and Young, Free As The Birds That Fly

by littledarling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledarling/pseuds/littledarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry and Louis actually meet two years prior X-Factor and fate having a funny way of working itself out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carless and Young, Free As The Birds That Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr. Thanks to the lovely thispieceofmind for reading this over for me and correcting all my mistakes and convincing me it wasn't all that terrible, really.

Harry never actually thought he’d ever find himself stepping foot in a library.

It’s not like he’s here by _choice,_ his mum pretty much held him against his will and  told him if he didn’t get out of the house and leave his room she’d take away his x-box.

She didn’t exactly hold him against his will, but Harry likes to exaggerate sometimes. She seriously did threaten to take away his x-box, though, and Harry likes his x-box very much and really wouldn’t want it taken away.

So here he is, in an actual _library_ and it’s _summer._ All the kids his age are probably out having fun and partying and Harry’s stuck here in a fucking library.

He looks around at his surroundings, and realizes that he was right. There aren’t very many people here, maybe ten at the most, and they all look to be about his mum’s age. Great.

He sighs and takes out the first book on the first shelf he passes, not even bothering to check the title or to read the summary because he doesn’t want to be here in the first place and he doesn’t really _care._

He takes a seat at the nearest table and opens up the book, which he still hasn’t bothered to check the title of. He coughs a little when a bunch of dust flies out of the pages. It obviously hasn’t been read in a few years, probably for a good reason. Harry sighs and rests his elbow on the table while flipping through the book aimlessly, not actually reading anything. He does pause his flipping of the pages when one word catches his eyes: _fate._

Harry's never really given much thought much about fate, he's never really believed in it. From his experience (not really a lot considering he just turned fourteen this year and his only girlfriend was a girl named Anna who he only asked out on a date because his friend Jake dared him to and the farthest they'd gone was holding hands in the hallways) that kind of stuff only happened in the movies and in fairytales. Love in general just didn't make sense to him.

After all, he didn't really have much of a reason to believe in it. He had to watch his mum and dad get a divorce, and then later his mum marrying Robin. It's not that he didn't like Robin, he did. He would take Harry to the park when his mum was busy working, and sometimes if Harry behaved he would buy him an ice cream. Mint chocolate chip, always.

It's just that, the whole concept of love was strange. Marrying someone means you love them, and that you want to be with them forever. His parents apparently fell out of love. He sometimes wonders what his life would be like if his parents didn't get a divorce, if his mum never married Robin. He wonders if they would still be living in Cheshire, if his dad would play football with him on the weekends like he used to even though Harry was complete rubbish at it. He wonders if on Friday nights when he came home from school if him and his family (even Gemma who he fought with endlessly but loved all the same) would still have a movie night with popcorn and soda and him and Gemma would fight over which movie they would watch and they ended up choosing over a nice game of rock paper and scissors. Gemma won every time.

He likes the idea of love, though. He really does. He'd like to think it exists. He likes imagining marrying a nice girl some day and maybe moving to America, that'd be nice. Maybe even have kids or something, he doesn't really know. He thinks about it sometimes before he goes to bed. He'll stare at his ceiling, the stars his mum put up for him when he was six. He stares up at them and thinks about how is life will be in ten years. He wonders how many new people new people he'll meet, how many girls he'll date and how many will break his heart. He wonders if he'll have a successful marriage or if they'll fall out of love like his parents did. That thought scares him.

His life now is good, though. He has no reason to complain. He has friends and he has a family that cares about him, even if his dad doesn't live with him anymore and really the only communication he has with him are monthly phone calls and birthday cards in the mail. Some people have it worse though, he thinks.

 

-

Harry's sitting on the couch watching a rerun of Spongebob on the telly when his mum walks in the room, a huge grin on her face. He eyes her curiously as she sits on the couch and mutes the tv, folding her hands in her lap and looking at him, smile not fading.

"What is it, mum?"

"I've got good news." She's still smiling. Well, this was odd.

"Well, spit it out then." He's smiling now, something is definitely up.

"We're going on a holiday!" She squeals. "Oh Harry, you'll love it. It's nothing big really-" She pauses, her smile fading a bit. "-you know how we can't afford a huge trip, but you'll like this too, I'm sure."

"Mum, it's fine. I'm sure it'll be fun." He says softly, wanting her to understand. He may be only fourteen, but he knows that his family is struggling with money. Robin's job doesn't pay much, and his mum quit her job in order to spend more time with Harry. He gets it. They're lucking enough to be going anywhere, really.

His mum pulls him in a hug then, running soothing hands down his back gently. He breathes in his mother's scent, vanilla with a hint of ginger. It smells nice. It smells like home.

"Oh, Harry. I'm so glad you understand." She pulls away from the hug then, folding her hands back in her lap, a soft smile still playing at her lips. "It's this really nice resort with a beach and lots of wildlife just a couple of hours away. Oh honey, you'll love it."

"I'm sure I will, mum." This time it's him who pulls her into a hug. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and wonders how he got lucky enough to have a mother as lovely as her.

-

"Stan!" Louis yells from outside his best friend’s bedroom door. "Stan, if you're not up I swear to god-"

"I'm up, I'm up," Stan mumbles as he hurriedly rushes out his door and closes it quickly behind him. Louis is pretty sure he saw a glimpse of hot pink lace knickers lying on the floor by the bed, but he knows better than to ask questions.

"God Lou, what's got you in such a hurry?" Stan asks as they hurriedly rush down the steps and out his front door. "It's not like you've ever been in a rush to get to school before."

Louis purses his lips, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder as they walk the five minute walk to school. It's their last day, and he's feeling pretty damn good about it. He takes a deep breath and let's it all sink in. He's off to the university next year, and it's kind of a scary thought, knowing he'll be away from his family, but at least Stan will be there with him. It's also kind of exciting, though. He's looking forward to the parties and meeting new people and maybe even getting some cute guy's numbers. He wants the whole university experience.

"What are you talking about?" Louis asked, mock offended. He stops in his tracks and holds his hand to his heart, "I happen to care deeply about my education, Stanley."

"Drama queen, you are." Stan mumbles, but he's smiling.

Louis continues walking, passing Stan up and bumping him in the hip while he's at it. "One of the many reasons why you love me."

-

Louis' mum told him that they were going to the resort only a week in advance. It was last minute planning, he guesses. He's not too thrilled about it if he's being honest. It's just some boring resort a couple of hours away, and he'd much rather spend that time at home getting drunk with Stan and snogging cute boys after footy practice, but he supposes you can't always get what you want.

His mum seems really excited about it, though. So do his sisters, not so much Lottie and Fiz, but there's no real surprise there. He remembers being young and he really, really misses it. You got excited over the littlest things and didn't have a care in the world. Kid's imaginations run wild. They could be looking up at the clouds, and make what would appear to anyone else as cotton candy or something as simple as that sort, into a fire breathing dragon. One time Phoebe tried to convince him that she saw a giant tortoise and a rabbit.

"Look, Lou! Look at the tortoise and the rabbit, do you think they're best friends? I think they are."

"I don't think a tortoise and a rabbit would like each other much, bub."

"What are you talking about? They would so!"

After a while he learned to just play along.

Sometimes he'll watch the twins play at the park, just watch the way they interact with each other, with the kids around them. Sometimes they fell, and they would cry, and they would get right back up again like nothing had happened. Other times they might see another kid playing on the swing set and walk right up to them and ask them to go on a treasure hunt with them. They're not shy at all. They get that from him, he thinks.

His mum brought up the resort while he was tapping away on his phone, headphones in, playing some horrible Rihanna song about chains and whips and- wow, he'll have to get Stan back for downloading _that_ on his phone.

"Look, Lou, look at how nice it is!" She squeals, shoving the pamphlet right in his face.

He takes a quick glance at it, and then goes back to typing on his phone. "Yeah, mum, looks great."

She sighs, putting the pamphlet back on coffee table and looked back at Louis. "Lou, come on. The girls are so excited, at least try to have fun, yeah?"

His mum's sad tone makes him put his phone down and look her in eyes. He loves his mum, he really, really does. Sometimes he acts like a complete twat to her, but he does.

"Yeah, mum. I will. Maybe I can work on my tan or something." He smiles gently and pulls her in to a hug.

"Thanks, Louis." She says, pulling away and kissing him on the forehead. "I love you."

"Love you too, mum."

-

The resort is actually pretty nice, Harry thinks. It obviously wasn't 5- star or anything like that, but it was definitely better than what he had been expecting.

Their room they're staying in has a really nice view of the lake, and the beds seem comfortable enough. From the look of the 1980's bathroom, he can tell this place hasn't been remodeled since before he was born, but he's not going to complain.

As soon as they're all settled and unpacked and his mum and Robin start getting all cuddly on the bed to the point where Harry thinks he might actually puke, he excuses himself and walks around the hotel a bit. There isn't a lot to look at, really. He finds himself in the game room, where there really aren’t very many people. Harry supposes he likes it better that way. There's a kid with red hair and freckles that looks to be a few years younger than himself by the claw machine, a little girl with blonde pigtails and her mum playing what looks to be Pac Man, and an elderly women sitting by herself in a chair at the corner of the room looking extremely out of place. He raises his eyebrows at that one, but doesn't say anything.

He idly walks around, looking at the games even though he knows he wasn't planning on playing any because he didn't bring any money and because he's rubbish at video games anyway.

He walks by the pool table and picks up the cue stick, holding it in his hands and just looking at it. He has absolutely no idea how to play pool, but his dad used to have a pool table in their basement when he was younger, and sometimes he'd watch him play with some of his mates. He'd like to learn how to play someday, he thinks. The game seems interesting enough, and Harry likes interesting things.

He sets the cue stick down, and walks to the door out of the room that goes out to the pool. He's not planning on swimming, obviously, because he didn't bring his trunks with him and he's a little self-conscious of his baby fat on his belly, anyway. He stands in the doorway, just looking out at the pool and the kids swimming and laughing and looking like they're having the time of their lives. There are some younger kids with floaters that still haven't learned to swim yet, and some older ones that look to be a little older than him with their friends. There's a couple in the corner of the pool, limbs wrapped around each other in a heated snog and he wonders to himself, _there's kids here_ and _is that even sanitary._

He jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder and he turns around to see an older man that doesn't seem like he speaks English, gesturing with his hands that he needs to get out the door, so he apologizes and steps out of the doorway and out by the pool. He thinks maybe he'll work on his tan now that he's out here because all of his friends always tease him about how pale he is and how apparently he's half albino or something, but it’s not like he can help it or anything.

As he's stripping his shirt off he chances a glance to the guy lying on the lounge chair next to his. Now that he's looking at him, he's not really a guy; he only looks a little older than himself, maybe seventeen at the most. He lets his eyes travel up his body, admiring him. He doesn't really think about what he's doing, but he finds himself scanning every single inch of his body. He lets his eyes travel up his body from his legs to his tanned, toned torso, and he's probably staring, but he can't find it in himself to care. He's still looking, still tracing every bit of his body with his eyes, still going up, up, up, and then _oh._

All he sees now is _blueblueblue_ because this beautiful boy is looking right at him, sunglasses now off and eyebrow raised, and he realizes he's been caught staring. Well, this is embarrassing.

"Like what you see?"

Harry almost chokes.  "I- I was just-" He looks down, a deep crimson forming on his cheeks.

Then the boy with the beautiful eyes laughs. He laughs and Harry thinks it might just be the best thing he's ever heard.

"It's okay mate, I'm just messing with you." The boy smiles, and Harry finds a smile forming on the corner of his lips, too.

"So, do you have a name then?" The boy cocks his head and lets his eyes roam Harry's body. He feels overexposed under his gaze.

"Harry. It's Harry."

"Well, "It's Harry", I'm Louis."

"Louis." He repeats. He likes the sound of it, he likes the way it rolls off his tongue. _LouisLouisLouis._

"Don't just stand there, come have a seat." Louis-he can actually put a name to the beautiful face and the cerulean eyes now-says as he pats the lounge chair besides him.

So he does. They talk about anything and everything, and Harry begins to wonder why he was so nervous before because Louis is just so easy to talk to and so carefree and just so _Louis._ Harry finds out that Louis is sixteen and that he's from Doncaster. Louis tells him about his sisters, how he has four of them that he loves dearly but can be extremely annoying at times. Harry tells Louis equally as much about himself and he finds himself amazed at how the topic of Harry's family brings a smile to Louis' face. He likes Louis' smile. He thinks he'd like to make him smile like that a lot more.

He doesn't really know how it happens, but before he knows it it's getting dark and he knows he's going to have a sunburn when he wakes up because his skin burns so easily, but he doesn't really care because he figures it was all worth it to have gotten to talk to Louis.

"It's getting late, my mum and stepdad are probably wondering where I am..." He trails off, eyes locked with the older boy's.

"Yeah, me too actually." Louis gets up and packs up his things, and Harry just watches. He watches as Louis pulls his shirt back on, he watches as the muscles in his back ripple and he watches as Louis turns back around, meeting Harry's gaze. He doesn't think he'll ever get over how _blue_ Louis' eyes are, and wow, he really needs to get himself together.

"I really enjoyed meeting you, Harry." Louis says gently, a soft sincere smile appearing across his lips, and Harry can't help smiling too because Louis' smile is just that contagious.

"You too, Louis." Harry says just as gently. Now that they're standing face to face like this, Harry can tell that Louis' not as tall as he thought he was, how they're almost the same height.

"I'll see you around, Curly." Louis smiles once again and looks into Harry's eyes, _really, really_ looks into Harry's eyes, and Harry feels his breath catch. Before he can say anything else, Louis is turning around and heading inside, and Harry's left trying to make out _what the hell just happened_.

-

That night as Harry's staring at the unfamiliar hotel's ceiling, he thinks. He thinks of Louis' laugh, how contagious it was and how proud of himself he was because _he made Louis laugh like that_. He thinks of his smile, how big and genuine it was, and how when he did his eyes would crinkle at the corners and make the butterflies in Harry's stomach flutter just a little bit. He knows he needs to see Louis again. He knows that he wants to see him smile that beautiful smile of his again; he wants to be that reason for that smile. He's never felt like before, not about _anyone,_ and he knows he just met the boy, he knows this, but he feels like he's known him his entire life.

Eventually sleep overcomes him and all he dreams about is blue.

-

The next morning Louis gets out of bed and he feels lighter than he has in ages. All he dreamt about was _green_ and _curls_ and _dimples_ , and dear God, he's a sucker for dimples.

He knows Harry's only fourteen, he knows this, but he can't bring himself to care because Harry's just so sweet and genuine and if he didn't know better he'd think he was like, at least fifteen, or something.

He's thinking about all of this as he's making his coffee, (he doesn't even _like_ coffee, what kind of hotel doesn't have tea, _seriously_ ) and he knows he's smiling like an idiot right now and he can feels his mum's eyes burning into the back of his head but he doesn't really care because he's _happy_.

He sits down on the hotel bed and looks out the window, sipping at his coffee and wincing when it burns his tongue. He thinks back to how Harry had told him about his family, and how genuine and happy and _proud_ he seemed while he was talking about his mother, like she was the most important thing to him on the planet.  He told him that his parents were divorced, to which Louis told him his were too. Harry squeezed his shoulder and gave him this _look_ , not in sympathy, but in understanding. He told him about his cat Dusty and how sometimes she'll sleep next to him at night and keep him company, and that lead to their debate on what they preferred, cats or dogs, Louis' answer of course being dogs.

"How can you like dogs better than cats? Honestly Lou, all they do is bark and slobber everywhere."

Louis smiles remembering the nickname Harry had given him.

"Dogs are _loyal._ You don't see a cat waiting in the doorway for you when you get home, do you?"

"Well, no, but cats are independent. You don't have to clean up after them or give them baths or anything."

Louis being Louis, of course won the argument by saying "What about Scooby Doo? Have you ever seen a cat with their own TV show? I don't think so." and Harry really couldn't get himself to argue with that.

It was just so easy to talk to Harry.

They talked about music ("I really like the Ramones, do you like the Ramones, Louis?") and movies ("Love Actually, hands down is my favorite movie of all time.") and just life. Louis remembers every single one of Harry's answers in detail, how when Louis would ask him a question he would furrow his eyebrows in concentration, and when he finally did answer he would put so much _thought_ into it. Harry was unlike anyone Louis had ever met before. He was so interesting and different and he found himself wanting to know more and more about the younger boy.

He's going to find out more about him, he decides. He wants to know everything about him, from his favorite color to how many sugars he prefers in his tea. He's going to see Harry again today. He has to.

-

Louis decides he's going to search the resort for Harry. It's not like the resort is all that big, and Harry has to be around here _somewhere,_ right? So he throws on a striped t-shirt and some tan khakis and his navy blue toms, tries his best to fix his fringe in the mirror even though it's not cooperating as much as he'd like, and he thinks "Fuck it.” He tells his mum he's going for a walk and then heads out the door in search for the younger boy with the sparkling green eyes.

It doesn't take him nearly as long as he thought it would to find him. He walks into the game room, not expecting to see him there at all (considering it mainly consists of little kids trying to win a stuffed animal out of a machine and old people playing bingo, but he’s not going to question him.) He could spot that curly hair anywhere. He's standing by the pool table, cue stick in hand, just staring at it like he doesn't know what to do with the thing.

Louis sneaks up on him pretty easily, Harry's too interested in the cue stick to notice a presence behind him, but when he feels hot breath on his shoulder and a raspy "boo" in his ear, he jumps and almost pokes Louis right in the eye with the cue stick.

"You scared the living hell out of me, you twat!" Harry shouts, but Louis can tell he's not actually angry, because he's smiling that beautiful smile of his. He can't get enough of it.

"That was kind of the point, actually." Louis' smiling, he doesn't think he could stop smiling even if he tried. "And thanks for almost blinding me with that, by the way."

"Hey, it was your fault for sneaking up on me like that. Hasn't anyone ever told you not to sneak up on people with pointy objects?"

"Well why were you just staring at the thing anyway? Don't you know how to play?" Louis' still smiling, _why can't he stop smiling?_

"Actually, I don't." Harry's looking down now, and he can see a faint blush on his cheeks. Before he can stop himself he's reaching out and touching his cheek ever so gently, just a feather light touch. He can feel the warmth under his fingertips, he can feel it spreading and spreading. He stops and fixes the younger boys fringe so the gesture looks casual, but then his eyes lock with his, and _oh,_ he almost forgot how green they were. His breath catches. He wonders if Harry notices.

He clears his throat, "Uh, well do you want me to teach you how to play?" He's trying to sound confident, he really is, but now he can feel his own warmth going to his own cheeks, and he doesn't know what's going on because he's usually so confident and so sure of himself but this boy just _does_ things to him.

"Yeah, sure." Harry says gently, a small smile forming on his lips, his left dimple becoming more prominent. Louis' stomach does a flip.

"Okay, uh, just hold the stick thingy," He makes these weird hand movements with his hands towards the cue stick to show what's he's talking about, "Just hold it like this." Louis takes Harry's hands into his own and positions them the right way onto the cue stick.

"Okay," Harry breathes. Louis wonders if his heart is beating as fast as his is right now.

"And just, like, position yourself like this." Louis takes Harry's arms into his own, so his chest is to Harry's back, and all he can see is Harry and all he can smell is Harry and all his senses are screaming _HarryHarryHarry._

Louis can feel Harry's chest rising and falling, so he knows he's not the only one freaking out like this. He runs his hand up Harry's arm gently, "It's okay," he breathes into his ear, trying to soothe him.

He can feel Harry take a deep breathe, and he doesn't know why he does it, he doesn't know where the courage came, from but he's not going to question it. Before he can stop himself he presses a feather light kiss to Harry's neck. He can feel Harry shiver against him, feel the way his breath catches.

"Now just hold it steady, love." He whispers into his ear. "Aim it just like that, yeah, okay good, now let it go." He does, and it's a terrible shot but they both don't really care.

Louis removes his grip from Harry's arms and takes a step back as Harry puts the cue stick down and turns around slowly to face Louis.

They both just stare at each other for what feels like forever, green locked with blue, but neither of them mind. It's just them. No one else exists at that moment, just them.

But eventually Harry takes a deep breath and mutters "I've got to go," before storming out of the room, and Louis just watches him leave. He's still so shocked over what happened in the last few minutes that he can't find it in himself to chase after the younger boy.

-

That night, Harry stares up at the ceiling with no stars and wonders _whywhywhy_ and _how could I be so stupid_.

He knows why. He's scared. Not the kind of scared you feel when you're about to go on that big roller coaster at the amusement park or that kind of scared you feel when you know the girl in the horror movie is running into a trap and she's going to die any second. No, it's a good scared. It's just... different. Being with Louis, it's different. Not just because Louis' a boy, he's not repulsed by that idea at all. He's just not like anyone he's ever met before. He's so different and so carefree and so bright and just so _Louis,_ and Harry wonders if this is what love feels like and if it's even too soon to be in love and he's just so confused about it all.

He thinks back to Louis lips on his neck, how gentle and soothing he was and how _nice_ and _right_ it felt.

Being with Louis, it's so easy. It's like when you're first learning how to ride your bike, how it's hard at first but once you get going it's like you're flying, and it's so easy and you wonder why you were afraid to try at all.

He decides that he really, really likes Louis.

-

He wakes up with one thing on his mind: Louis. He has to talk to Louis, he has to explain why he ran off like he did. He throws on the first clothes he sees in his suit case, not really caring what he looks like. He tells his mum he's hanging out with a new friend, "Oh, you made a friend, that's great sweetheart. Have fun", and he storms out the door in search for the older boy.

-

Louis is definitely not sulking.

He knows he's on holiday and he should be out having fun with his family, because they've been looking forward to this for weeks now, but he just can't get himself to leave the hotel room.

He'd much rather spend the last few days he has there in the hotel room watching shitty television because this place doesn't have cable and eating a pack of crisps he got from the vending machine down the hall. He's pretty sure they're stale, but he eats them anyway.

Alright, so maybe he's sulking a little.

His family's starting to notice, too. They keep asking him what's wrong and he'll reply with "I'm just tired" or "Nothing, guys, I'm fine, honestly."

Eventually they stop asking.

He figures he has a right to be sulking, though. That's what he keeps telling himself anyway. He basically ruined whatever friendship him and Harry were building just because he reacted on impulse. He's not angry with Harry for running away, of course not. He gets it. If the positions were switched he'd probably do the same thing. He doesn't know what their boundaries are, if there were any to begin with. All he knows is that he probably scared the younger boy off and he probably won't ever speak to him again.

He really can't get himself to regret his decision, though. Being that intimate with him, it just felt so nice and so _right._ He's never felt like that about anyone before, especially after only knowing the person for that short amount of time. Not even with any of his past boyfriends. Sure, he liked them all well enough. They were sweet and they would take him on nice dates and sometimes buy him flowers and chocolate and he really appreciated the gestures, but he just never really connected with any of them the way he connects with Harry.

He's never been in love. He thinks maybe he's loved people, but he's never actually been _in_ love. He's pretty sure it's something you don't have to question; it's something that you just _know_. He's watched the way some of his friends act around their girlfriends, the way they look at each other. There's just this look in their eyes, he can't really explain it, but it's there. Every time he's around them he likes to joke and make gagging noises and his friends would usually end up flipping him off, but in reality he's jealous of them. He longs for something like what they have.

He thinks he could love Harry if he gave him the chance. He's pretty sure the butterflies in his stomach every time he's around the other boy and the laugh that he can't control every time Harry cracks a cheesy joke tells him that much. Harry's jokes are never really all that funny, but Louis can't help but laugh every single time because he can tell how hard Harry is trying to impress him, and how Harry actually thinks his jokes are hilarious, which is really fucking adorable. Everything Harry does is adorable, really.

He and Harry have just had this connection from the start. He thinks maybe it's fate. It has to be.

He decides he's being pretty fucking pathetic moping around the hotel room like this and thinking through all of this when he could actually be doing something about it. He forces himself to get out of bed and throw the first shirt and pair of shorts he sees on, because honestly, he just doesn't care.

He leaves his mum a note on the bedside table because it's still early and they haven't woken up yet, and quietly leaves the room. He doesn't know where he's going, exactly. He just needs to get out of here. So he walks.

-

Harry doesn't know where he's going. He's already tried looking for Louis by the pool and in the game room and Louis never exactly told him what room number he was staying in so he really doesn't know where to look.

So he just walks. He doesn't know where he's going, but he walks anyway. It's nice out here, he thinks. He stops and looks around at his surroundings. He takes a deep breath and just let's it all sink in. The resort has lots of trees and wildlife, and it's just really, really beautiful.

As he walks, he thinks. He thinks of everything that's happened in the past two days. How two people who've only known each other for that short forty eight hours could have such a connection right from the start. He doesn't think that's how it normally works.

Maybe that's just it. Maybe that's not normal, but really, since when has Harry ever been normal?

He walks for what feels like hours, maybe it has been hours, he doesn't know. He doesn't know if his mum and Robin are worrying about him, nor does he really care at the moment. The only thing on his mind is Louis.

He just walks and walks and walks until he finds it. He wasn't really sure what he was looking for until now, but this is definitely it.

It's a meadow. Not a very large one, but it's a meadow. It's beautiful, with trees and flowers and Harry just stops and _looks_ , takes everything in.

He walks through it a little bit more, and then he sees someone. That someone that has been occupying his thoughts and dreams for the past two days. That someone he was looking for.

He's lying in the grass, just staring up at the sky. The sun is starting to go down, darkness slowly creeping in. Louis watches the sky while Harry watches Louis. He's probably being a bit creepy, he thinks, since Louis has absolutely no idea he's here. Harry slowly makes his way towards Louis and sits down next to him. He doesn't flinch at all, like he knew Harry was here all along.

Harry doesn't say a word, just lays down right next to him and stares up at the sky.

"It's beautiful." He murmurs. The sun is going down fast, darkness filling its place.

"Yeah, it is," Louis says just as quietly, slowly turning his head so he's facing the younger boy. They just stare at each other for a moment, "But I can think of something even more beautiful."

Harry blushes, he's thankful that it's starting to get dark out because he doesn't think he could control the flush in his cheeks if he tried. He looks down, not meeting Louis' gaze.

"I'm sorry." He whispers quietly.

Louis of course knows what he's apologizing for. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Harry."

They fall into silence after that, but it's not awkward in the slightest. It's a nice, comfortable silence. The sky is almost pitch black by now, stars flooding the night sky. They just lay there and gaze up at the stars, Louis' hand softly brushing his own. He can hear Louis' soft breathing and he can faintly smell Louis' cologne. Harry feels content, like he's meant to be there, lying next to this beautiful boy with the amazing laugh and the beautiful eyes. Harry wants nothing more than to wrap his hand around Louis', hold it tight, but he doesn't. He doesn't think he can.

Louis seems to be reading his mind, though, because he takes his hand in his own and squeezes it gently. Harry looks up at the boy next to him, and sees that he's already staring right back at him with this look of pure _awe_ in his eyes, like Harry is the most beautiful think he's ever laid eyes on.

"Hey, Louis?" Harry whispers softly.

Louis closes his eyes and hums in response, letting Harry know he's listening.

Harry doesn't really know what makes him ask it. The words leave his lips before he really even has a chance to think them through.

"Do you believe in love?"

Louis opens his eyes and turns his head so he's facing Harry. He seems to really take the question into consideration, because he furrows his eyebrows and bites his lip and Harry thinks it's really, really cute.

"Yeah, I think I do." He whispers back. It's the way he says it, the way he looks at Harry when he says it, that makes Harry's heart stutter and his breath to catch.

"What about fate? Do you believe in that?" He tries to control the race of his heart, he wills it to slow down, but Louis is looking at him like that, and no one has ever looked at him that way before. It's the same look he sees on his mum and Robin's faces when they would be sitting at the dinner table and Robin would make a particularly cheesy joke and his mum would just laugh like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard in her life. She would just stare into his eyes like they were the only two people in the room and like nothing else mattered in the world. It's the same look he sees the boy give the girl in those sappy romantic comedies he sometimes watches but will never admit. He knows that look very well.

"After meeting you, I think I do, yeah."

-

The next couple of days go by pretty quickly after that. They both know their time together is limited, that pretty soon they'll both be leaving and going their separate ways. They try not to think about it, they try to just live in the moment and make the most of their time together.

They don't speak about what happened at the meadow. There are just some things that can go unspoken, these being one of those things. They both can tell how they feel about each other, but they choose not to talk about it because they know they'll both be leaving soon and they don't want to think about what's going to happen after that. It's a scary thought that they'd rather keep locked up and not open just yet.

Louis eventually teaches Harry how to make a shot in pool, this time no kissing involved, which was a little challenging on his part but somehow he managed. Harry was so thrilled that he actually started jumping up and down and it reminded Louis of his sisters on Christmas morning. Louis didn't think Harry could get any cuter, but apparently he was very wrong.

"Harry, this is a very monumental moment. We must capture it so we can pass it down to your children and their children and their uncle’s children." He pulls out his phone and aims it at Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes but makes no move to move from the camera's view. "Seriously, Lou?"

"I'm most definitely serious, young Harold. Now say cheese!"

Harry's face splits into a huge grin and he puts his free hand that's not holding the cue stick into a thumbs up, but right as Louis' about to take the picture he turns around quickly so instead of capturing his face the camera captures the back of his head.

"Harry!" Louis whines. That would have been a really cute picture, too.

Then Harry giggles. He fucking _giggles._ "I don't like my picture being taken, Lou."

"Whatever, I'll get your picture one way or another.”

"Good luck with that, babe." Harry's smiling, his dimples on full display. Louis thinks he might just go into cardiac arrest any second now. It's a huge possibility.

Louis really is planning on getting his picture, though. He wants to remember these few days spent with Harry, because he knows they're coming to an end and he really doesn't want to think about that. Not that he could ever forget his time spent with the younger boy, because it has to be the most fun he's had in ages. He wants to have actual _proof_ that Harry is real, because his mum and sisters are beginning to think he's made him up or something since they haven't actually seen him, but Louis doesn't want to scare Harry off just yet, and he knows if he introduced him to his family that's exactly what would happen. He wants to be able to look back at these pictures years from now when he's old and grey and sitting in an old rocking chair or something and showing his grandkids the pictures and telling them the story of how he met this boy with the curly hair and the bright green eyes and how he fell for him instantly. He likes to imagine Harry sitting by his side as well; just as old and just as grey but maybe with a little more hair because he's pretty sure those curls will be there forever, holding his hand and telling the story with him.

Harry interrupts his thoughts by telling him it's his turn, so he walks up to the younger boy and takes the cue stick from his hand, ruffling his hair while doing so. Harry's whole face lights up into a bright grin, his dimple in his left cheek becoming more prominent. He reaches out to poke it, which only makes Harry smile wider.

He really doesn't want his time with him to end, but he knows all good things do come to an end eventually.

-

Their last day together is mainly spent at the beach, enjoying the warmth from the sun and each other's company. Their mum's are both beginning to notice something's up, because when they both tell them that they're going to the beach with their friend, there's knowing looks in their eyes, but they don't question them, which they're both thankful for because they don't know if they could explain if they tried. They walk hand in hand to the ice cream parlor a couple of blocks down, some people give them strange looks on the way but they pay them no mind because they're together and that's all that really matters.

They argue for a bit over who's paying, Harry eventually giving up with a pout because apparently Louis always gets what he wants. Louis smiles in victory, which wipes the pout right off of Harry's face, and orders them both two scoops of mint chocolate chip ice cream. That makes Harry smile again, because he never once told Louis what his favorite ice cream flavor was, Louis somehow just _knew._

They walk back to the beach, hands gently swaying between the two of them, slowly licking at their ice cream. They're in no rush. They still have hours before they have to leave- which they're still trying not to think about, but it's inevitable, really- and they don't say anything. They don't really need to.

Louis tries to teach Harry how to play the guitar, even though he only knows a few songs himself- all by The Fray- to which Harry complains, “I’ll probably end up breaking it or something.” After much reassuring Harry that he most definitely won’t break it and how that’s probably not even possible, he complies with a huff and “If I end up breaking it don’t say I didn’t warn you”, but he complies nonetheless.

After about twenty minutes into their ‘lesson’, Louis realizes that Harry really wasn’t joking and if he keeps up his harsh strumming he might _actually_ break it. He gently takes the guitar away from Harry’s hands and sets it down by their feet. When he looks back up, Harry’s pouting and he just looks so disappointed, almost like he’s disappointed _Louis_ or something.

Louis gently rubs Harry’s arm and mutters, “Hey, love, it’s alright.”

“I _told_ you I’d be shit, I told you.” Harry’s looking at the ground now, embarrassed.

“Hey, no, Haz, look at me,” He tips Harry’s chin up so their faces are level and they’re looking right into each other’s eyes. “We can try again another time, yeah?”

He doesn’t really know if there even _will_ be another time, he’d really like to think so, but there’s no way to be sure. Of course he doesn’t mention this to Harry because he’s smiling that beautiful smile again, and he just looks so _hopeful_ , he can’t spoil that.

“Besides,” Louis says softly, “I think you’re always wonderful.”

Harry ducks his head down at that, not meeting Louis’ gaze, but Louis can just make out the flush of Harry’s cheeks. Louis thinks it’s adorable how flustered and embarrassed Harry gets over the littlest things.

A few moments later Harry lifts his head back up so he’s staring right into Louis’ eyes, and whispers, “Play something for me.”

Louis’ a little taken aback, not really expecting that. “What?”

 Harry laughs a little at that. “I said, play something for me. Sing, too.”

“I can’t sing.”

“Yes, you can. You told me you were in Grease once, so you can’t be _all_ that bad.” Then he smiles that cheeky grin of his, and Louis really can’t say no to that, can he?

“Alright,” he mutters, picking up his guitar. “But really, I’m not all that good.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just scooches a little closer to Louis on the blanket they’re sitting on, so their shoulders are touching and so Louis can feel Harry’s hot breath on his neck.

Louis begins playing the opening of _Look After You_ by The Fray, because, really, that’s one of the only songs he knows how to play.

He’s never actually played for someone before, sure, he was Danny in Grease and he had to perform for his entire school, but that was completely different. He’s never played for just for one person before. Especially not the one person that he thinks he might possibly be falling in love with.

He knows he messes up on a few notes, but Harry doesn’t seem notice, and if he does, he doesn’t care.

_“If I don’t say this now, I will surely break.”_

He hears Harry’s sharp intake of breath, but continues playing. He can feel Harry’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t dare look up.

Harry must recognize the song, because he joins in quietly at the chorus.

_“Ooh, ooh, be my baby, Ohhhh.”_

Louis does look up then, to find that Harry’s still singing and looking right at him. Their eyes lock, and it’s just them. They’re not paying attention to their surroundings. They aren’t paying any attention to the older woman that’s sitting not too far from them and giving them nasty glares. No one else exists at the moment, just them.

_“Ooh, ooh, be my baby, I’ll look after you.”_

Their eyes stay locked like that, green on blue, and Louis’ beginning to think he’s in some Nicholas Sparks novel or something, because this is all so fucking _cheesy,_ but also so romantic at the same time. He didn’t think things like this actually happen in real life, but apparently they do.

Eventually the song comes to an end, and Louis slowly sets his guitar down, still holding his gaze with Harry’s. They don’t say anything for a little while, until Louis breathes, “You never mentioned could sing.” He probably sounds like an idiot right now, but really, he doesn’t think his brain is capable of forming coherent sentences at the moment.

“Never really came up.” Harry says just as breathlessly.

He’s not really sure who makes the first move, he think’s maybe it was him considering the amount of time he spent staring at the boy’s lips beforehand, but it all happens so quickly and before he knows it their lips are touching.

It’s like all of a sudden time stops. It’s a soft and gentle kiss, but with so much emotion pouring out of it. It’s like all of their feelings that they’re too afraid to say out loud are pouring out, and Louis can hear them all loud and clear. He can hear Harry’s _I’m scared_ and _what if we never see each other again_ and Louis returns them with _I am too_ and _we will, I promise._ He’s not really sure how long the kiss lasts, but eventually they have to stop for air. Louis pecks Harry twice on the lips before pulling away altogether and then pulling the younger boy in for a hug. Harry nuzzles his face into Louis’ shoulder and mutters “I think I’m falling in love with you, Lou.”

Louis kisses Harry on the neck gently before whispering just as softly, “I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

-

“S’nice.” Harry mutters. They’re lying in the sand, Harry’s face nuzzled into Louis’ shoulder. The sun’s just starting to go down and it’s really, really beautiful.

“Yeah,” He pulls Harry in a little closer so he can peck Harry’s cheek. “It is.”

“What do you think’s going to happen? After we leave?” Harry whispers.

Louis really wishes he had an answer, but he doesn’t. He wishes he could tell Harry everything’s going to be okay, and that they’ll see each other again soon. But he can’t, because he doesn’t know.

“I really don’t know, Haz.” He whispers, his tone sad.

Harry nods once, understanding.

They fall into silence after that, until it’s almost pitch black outside and they decide it’s time to head inside.

They both stand up and pack up their things, not saying a word. When they’re finished they both turn around so they’re facing each other. They just stare for what seems like forever, until Harry lets out a soft choked out sob. Louis drops his things and pulls Harry into a gentle embrace, rubbing his back, trying to soothe the boy even though he’s fighting back tears himself.

“Sh, Harry, don’t cry.” He pressed gentle kisses to every bit of Harry he can reach, and then kisses his tears away. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“You don’t know that, though.” He chokes out.

He wishes he could say he did, but he really doesn’t.

“Don’t think of this as a goodbye, think of it as more of a ‘see you later’.” Louis smiles sadly at the younger boy before pecking him softly on the lips once more before moving to pick up his things.

Harry just stands there like he’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t move to pick up his things, he just watches Louis, like he’s just _waiting_ for him to disappear.

Louis turns around to leave, but before he does, he turns his head so he’s facing the other boy and whispers, “Fate has a funny way of working itself out.”

Then he’s gone.

-

It’s been two years. Two years since Harry’s mum decided it would be a good idea to get away for a week. Two years since Harry thought it’d be a nice idea to go out by the pool and try to get a tan. Two years since he bet the boy with the bright blue eyes and even brighter smile. Two years since he met Louis.

His life really has changed in the past two years. He got himself a job in a bakery nearby when he was fifteen where he doesn’t get paid nearly as much as he should, but doesn’t quit because he knows it would disappoint his mum.

Sometimes when he’s decorating the cupcakes he’ll think back to the day two years ago when Louis told him that sometimes he’d bake cupcakes with the twins, and let them lick the frosting off the spoon (he would too but he wasn’t going to admit that to anyone but Harry) even though his mother told him strictly not to. He doesn’t know why he remembers that. He just does. He remembers every little thing Louis told him about himself, when on most nights Harry can’t even remember what he had for breakfast that morning.

Exactly six months after his fifteenth birthday he asked this girl named Felicity out. Not exactly because he _wanted_ to, more because he was _expected_ to. His best mate was dating her best friend and they all thought it would be a great idea if he asked Felicity out to prom so they  could double date or something like that, and a date turned into her suddenly thinking they were _official_ , and Harry really couldn’t find it in himself to  break up with her.

It’s not that he didn’t like Felicity, because he really did. She was really beautiful and had a bright personality and overall she was just a really lovely girl, and an even lovelier girlfriend. She would always shove these cute -slightly cheesy, but still cute- letters into his locker and kiss him right in front of everyone in the school when they ran into each other in the hallways. He really appreciated all the gestures, and he knows how many guys in the school envied him with a passion for getting to date the most popular girl in the school, but it just didn’t feel _right_ , being with her. He knows exactly why. It’s because she wasn’t _him._

He ended up breaking up with her over dinner one night. She was eating her spaghetti and going on and on about something having to do with how Rebecca cheated on Daniel or something like that, he wasn’t really paying any attention. He was trying to come up with ways to let her down easy in his head, but what came out was, “I think we need to break up.”

She dropped her fork and looked up at him with this look of utter _shock_ on her face. “ _What?”_

“It’s not you, it’s me.” Looking back at that now, he really wishes he could slap himself in the face over how _cliché_ that was, but she ended up doing that for him anyway, so it all worked out in the end, he supposes.

No matter how hard Harry tries to move on, he knows he’s never fell out of love with the older boy. He sometimes wonders if Louis ever thinks of him, thinks of those few days that they shared together that summer. He really hopes he does, because it was definitely the best time of his life.

He knows how pathetic he’s being. He knows Louis’ probably long moved on by now. He probably has a nice boyfriend that treats him well and that takes him on nice dates and that he _loves._ He knows deep down that that’s what he wants, for Louis to be happy. He just wishes he was happy with _him._

He really doesn’t believe in fate at all.

-

“Oh my god, mate, look at your face in this one! Fucking _priceless.”_ Stan hits him in the shoulder, a little harder than necessary, really.

“Shut _up_. Like you should be the one talking. Look at you in this one.” Louis points to the picture of Stan in the upper right corner of the album. “You were completely wasted, mate.”

Stan just laughs. “We all were. Crazy ass night, that was.”

Louis smiles, turning the page. Then he sees it. The picture he hid in this album for so long for a reason. His smile drops and he closes the album quickly, sitting back up and placing it back in the shelf.

“What’s gotten into you?” Stan asks, getting up and making to grab the album from the shelf before Louis’ hand stops him. “Don’t.” Louis’ says gently, like a warning. Stan looks confused for a second before he mutters a barely audible “oh.”

Louis told Stan all about that summer just a couple of months ago, after much pestering over what’s changed with Louis over the past two years. Louis finally gave in and told him everything, from how they met to their last day at the beach, and Stan listened quietly, nodding every once in a while and didn’t say a word, which is unlike him, but he knows when he has to be serious, and that’s one of the reasons Louis considers him his best friend. He understands.

“Mate, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have to move on. It’s been two fucking _years,_ it’s just not healthy.” Stan said sadly.

“I _know_ it’s not healthy, Stan. I just can’t stop thinking about him, no matter what I do, he’s always there, in the back of my mind. It’s like a constant reminder of what I could have had.”

Stan doesn’t really know what to say to that, just squeezes his shoulder sympathetically and leaves the room without another word.

Stan tried setting Louis up with multiple guys over that period of time, and they were all lovely, they really were, but they didn’t have curly hair or green eyes or dimples. They just weren’t _him._

One time Stan even tried hooking up with Louis to see if that would help, which wasn’t anything but fucking awkward, and they had a mutual agreement that they were never to speak of that night again.

Eventually Stan stopped trying.

So here Louis is, two years later, still in love with this boy that he met two years ago, and he doesn’t even know how that’s possible. He only knew him a _week,_ and when he told Stan this he gave him this _look_ and then said “I’m pretty sure no one can fall in love that quickly, not even you.” Because Stan knows Louis so well, and he knows how easily Louis falls for people. The thing was, it wasn’t even just because Louis falls for people so quickly. It was because of Harry. Everything was different with him, everything just came so naturally, and so did falling in love with him.

“I’m heading out, I’ll be back in a few hours, yeah?” Stan makes to open the door, but then stops and turns so he’s facing Louis. “You sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’m _fine_ , Stan. Really. Go have fun.” Louis smiles gently, but he knows it’s not reaching his eyes. Stan gives him a sympathetic look, and that’s exactly what he doesn’t want. He doesn’t want sympathy.

Louis really is fine. He is. He’s just going to keep telling himself this until one day it’s actually true.

“Alright, Lou. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Louis just nods, and Stan leaves quietly.

Louis appreciates Stan’s worrying, he does. Stan’s a really good friend, he always has been. He can see the sad look in Stan’s eyes every time Louis flinches when the Ramones comes on the radio because _the Ramones were Harry’s favorite_ , or that one time they were deciding on what movie to watch and Stan suggested Harry Potter. Literally _everything_ reminds him of Harry.

One time Louis was actually considering driving down to Cheshire. He told Stan about his idea, and he reminded him of how fucking _creepy_ that would be for one thing, and he didn’t even know exactly where Harry lived anyway. Louis argued with Stan that Cheshire couldn’t be _that_ big, and he could just ask around, but after a while he actually took Stan’s words into consideration and decided that, yeah, that _would_ be pretty creepy. Even if he did find Harry, what would he say to him? He’s pretty sure that saying, “Oh, hey Harry, I’m kind of sort of still in love with you” would probably scare the boy off, because after all, it’s been _two fucking years_. Harry’s probably long moved on by now. He probably has nice friends and a nice girlfriend, or boyfriend, and he’s probably _happy._ Louis sometimes wonders if Harry ever thinks about him the way he thinks about Harry. Part of him really hopes so, but another part of him hopes he’s moved on, something Louis has yet to do.

Louis sighs and walks back to the bookshelf and takes out the photo album. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, because every time he sees the picture it just causes this huge _ache_ in his chest, but for some reason he feels like he needs to see it again, just once.

He opens up the album slowly, turning to the page he knows the photo is on. He hasn’t actually seen the photo in almost two years, knowing that if he did it would bring back all the memories that he tries to forget, but are stored at the back of his mind as a reminder that _you could have had him_ and _you let him get away._

When his eyes land on it, he gasps. He doesn’t know why, because it’s not like he hasn’t seen the photo before, but as soon as he sees it, it’s like he’s taken back to two years ago in that ratty old game room and he’s sitting on that arm chair watching this boy that he only knew for about a _week,_ score his first shot in pool.  He remembers the way Harry had smiled and jumped up and down and just looked so unbelievably _happy._

The memories of their time together are a bit faded now. He’s starting to forget the sound of Harry’s voice and the way his eyes would twinkle and the way his lips would turn up into a small smile when Louis would say something particularly cheeky. He doesn’t want to forget. He wants to latch onto these memories and hold onto them tight and never let them go. Maybe store them in a chest and lock it so they have nowhere to go and Louis will never forget, but Louis’ smart and he knows that with time memories do fade. He just needs to accept that.

Louis sighs and let’s his fingertips graze the photo ever so gently, almost like if he presses too hard the photo will disintegrate right before his eyes. Louis’ never been very good at photography, which is pretty obvious from the look of this photo. Most people probably would have deleted it right after being taken because it’s blurry (since Harry thought it would be funny to turn around at the last minute),so really the only thing you can see is the back of his head and the slight cheeky grin on his lips, but Louis just never could get himself to.

Louis closes the album gently and places it back in its place on the bookshelf. He knows he needs to move on with his life and stop dwelling on something that could have been. It was just a summer love, he tries to tell himself. That’s it.

Fate really is a load of bullshit, he decides.

-

He doesn’t know _why_ he’s here, standing in this long queue and just waiting for the judges to turn him down, which is probably the last thing he needs at the moment.

It was his mum’s idea, really. She’d called him up one night while he was watching a rerun of _Friends_ on the telly and had a carton of cookie dough ice cream in his lap. He’d picked up the phone with a mumbled “Hey, mum” because his mouth was full _._ She always chooses the wrong times to call, really.

“I thought I taught you not to talk with your mouth full! God, Lou, where are your manners?”

“Sorry, mum.” He mumbles, but he’s really not paying much attention to her because Ross is proposing to Rachel and it’s not like he hasn’t seen this part like a billion times before, but.

“I have some really good news, Lou.” She’d told him all about the auditions that would be held next month and she sounded so _excited,_ like she was the one that would be auditioning or something, not him. Of course Louis loved singing, but he didn’t think he was that good at it. It would be nice to get someone else’s opinion besides his own mum’s, but he’d much rather not embarrass himself in front of thousands of people and on national television.

He’d told her this much, and she just shrugged it off and told him she’d already set up and audition for him, and he didn’t have much say in the matter, really.

So here he is, standing in this long queue in the smoldering heat, and he keeps complaining to his mum that he’s going to die of a heat stroke or something before it’s even his turn, and there’s someone behind him that keeps poking him in the bum and he’s seriously about to turn around and say something because it’s getting _really_ annoying.

As he’s standing there complaining, he thinks he sees a familiar mop of curls in the crowd, but shrugs it off and continues his bickering because _that’s impossible_.

He’s drunken so much water in the past couple of hours of them waiting for his turn, he didn’t even realize until now that he _really, really_ has to piss.

He tells his mum he’ll be right back and to hold his spot, and she just gives him this stern look and a “Hurry it up, you don’t want to miss your turn” before he’s scattering off towards the nearest restroom.

-

Harry’s splashing water on his face and eyeing his reflection in the mirror whilst mentally giving himself a pep talk because he doesn’t think he’s ever been this fucking nervous for anything in his entire life. He’s so invested in trying to slow the race of his heart that he doesn’t even hear someone else come in.

He decides that he’s being really pathetic and needs to man up and get out there before he misses his chance, so he turns around quickly only to bump into someone else that seems to be in as much of a hurry as he is.

“Oops, sorry I-" But at that moment they both look up from where their eyes were both previously on the floor. Their eyes meet, green on blue, and everything seems to stop. All the memories from two years ago come crashing back, almost like no time had passed at all.

“Hi.” Louis breathes. He’s watching Harry, almost like he can’t believe he’s actually there, standing right in front of him, like he’s afraid if he looks away Harry will be gone and this would have all been a dream. Harry figures he probably looks the same way right about now. He’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Hi.” Harry replies, just as breathlessly. This can’t be happening. This kind of stuff just doesn’t happen.

That’s when Harry chances a glance at the clock on the wall and notices the time. They both have to get back out there if they have any chance at making the auditions at all.

“The- the time,” He stammers, pointing at the clock stupidly with one hand while the other is holding onto the counter for balance because he _still can’t fucking breathe._

Louis seems to understand, because he nods and then looks Harry right in the eyes. “Later, we’ll talk, yeah?”

Harry nods back and manages a soft smile. “Yeah.”

-

They never do end up having that talk.

They both make it through, but they have yet to see each other again since the restroom encounter, so they really both don’t know whether or not the other made it through or not. They silently pray they did, because they can’t let each other get away like that again. They just can’t.

Before they both know it they’re at bootcamp, in a huge crowd waiting to see if their name is called out or not. Waiting to see whether they get to move on in the competition or if their dreams are crushed right here and there and they’re forced to go back home.

Their eyes meet once in the crowd. They both give each other small smiles that say _good luck._

They both don’t end up making it through.

They cry, of course. They cry and cry until they don’t think they can cry anymore. They worked this hard and now it’s just _over,_ now they’re forced to pack their bags and to go back home to their friends and family and try to go back to normal, like they didn’t spend these last few weeks working their arses off and trying to make their dreams come true. It’s just over.

Then their names are called, along with three other lads that they think they recognize from the crowd. They’re all huddled into a group on the stage in front of the judges who just sent them home, so they really don’t know what to expect, but they have a good feeling.

“We’ve decided to put you through to the judge’s houses.”

  
That’s the last thing they hear because time seems to just _stop._ All five lads are filled with nothing but pure _happiness_ and _relief._ Harry and Louis’ eyes meet, and before they both know it Harry’s lifting the smaller boy into his arms and hugging him, hugging him so tight and inhaling his scent that still hasn’t changed over the past two years. There are tears streaming down both of their faces, this time not out sadness like that summer two years ago, this time out of pure happiness. They pull apart from the hug and just _stare_ at each other. They stare for what seems like forever, but really is just a few moments. They don’t say anything; they just stare into each other’s eyes and smile and hug some more and it’s all just so _great._

 _Yeah,_ they both think, _maybe they do believe in fate after all._

*


End file.
